


And Everything Nice

by nclgbt



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Sugar Daddy AU, University AU, alternatively: accidental sugar baby au, engineering student jungwoo, non canon ages, tired professional doyoung
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-12-25 19:29:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18267899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nclgbt/pseuds/nclgbt
Summary: "is it possible to accidentally become a sugar baby?" Jungwoo types into the search bar, before frantically hitting the backspace button, closing the tab, and deleting his browser history for good measure.He exhales, hunched over his laptop. Maybe he’s overthinking this. Maybe Doyoung was just taking pity on him. Maybe, when Doyoung whispered “let me take care of you” he meant “hey, you’re just a platonic guy friend that I platonically share all my secrets and worries with and make big sparkly eyes at and I am absolutely not offering to have mind-blowing sex with you and/or pay your tuition right now”.





	And Everything Nice

**Author's Note:**

> 30/07/19: updated with edits made to chapter one!

Like most things that have happened in the last three years of his life, Jungwoo can probably blame Sicheng for this.

If Sicheng hadn’t transferred to NCT U halfway through first term, he wouldn’t have been allocated the empty bed in Jungwoo’s twin room, and he wouldn’t have walked in on Jungwoo practicing for his recital, _then_ he wouldn’t have found out that Jungwoo played the violin, and two years later he wouldn’t have asked that he teach his little brother, Renjun, who had managed to scare away his last three teachers, and Renjun wouldn’t have suggested to his best friend Jeno that he take up the violin as well so they could sit next to each other in orchestra - and don’t worry, Jungwoo isn’t as old and boring as his other teachers - and Jungwoo wouldn’t be leaving Jeno’s house in the middle of January after helping him practice for an end-of-term primary school recital, and he certainly wouldn’t be in the shallow snow, clutching his tailbone after slipping on a patch of ice in the kid’s ridiculously large driveway.

“Fuck you, Sicheng,” Jungwoo whimpers into the cold air. “Fuck you _so much_.”

Jungwoo can practically see Sicheng’s winning smile in his mind, all charming and angelic and _who, me?_ He boils with anger, feeling the snow dig its ice-cold fingers into through his jeans as his ass throbs like hell (and no, not even in a good way) and God, he needs to get up, this is so embarrassing what if somebody _saw_ -

“Oh my God, are you okay?” A voice above Jungwoo says, and oh, excellent. If it were the high, cheerful voice of Lee Jeno, he’d probably be able to survive this humiliation. (Jeno’s probably the sweetest nine-year-old that has ever walked the earth. He wouldn’t laugh at Jungwoo. He _wouldn’t_.) But no, the evil winter spirits controlled by Dong Sicheng had to send a stranger to witness him lying on the ground holding his butt in broad daylight. Jungwoo screws his eyes shut and wishes that the frozen ground would just open up and slam-dunk him into the Earth’s molten core.

Before Jungwoo can utter a “fuck my life” to the void, he’s hoisted to his feet. The grip on his upper arms is firm, and it’s a testament to how long it’s been since Jungwoo has had a successful date that his belly swoops with more than just vertigo. Jungwoo almost misses the pressure as it disappears. The same hands come up to brush down the front of Jungwoo’s jacket, and it’s a gesture so unexpected that it startles Jungwoo into opening his eyes.

The man before him is a little shorter than Jungwoo, with a slender face and a brow furrowed in concern. He’s older, too, but Jungwoo can’t tell by how much. His hair is shiny and so black it’s almost blue, styled in a trendy curve over his forehead like the actors in the dramas Sicheng likes to watch. A watch sits on his wrist where his coat sleeve rides up, shining above the black leather of his gloves. The suit under his thick woollen peacoat looks like it costs more than Jungwoo’s rent and oh _fuck_ , he’s definitely wearing a waistcoat.

“Are you okay?” The man asks, and his eyes are sparkling up at Jungwoo and Jungwoo must have hit his head too, when he fell, because his new, post-fall Jungwoo brain has clearly slapped a kira kira filter on the world. People that aren’t Lee Taeyong aren’t allowed to have eyes this shiny and wide.

(Jungwoo would know. He’s been a member of the rapper’s fan cafe since he was thirteen.)

“That was a pretty hard fall…” The man continues, voice growing more concerned the longer Jungwoo doesn’t speak.

“Sorry!” Jungwoo finally squeaks out and wow, the odds are really stacked against him today, huh? He clears his throat and tries again. He bends his waist in a bow and _ow_ , he’s definitely going to be bruised tomorrow. Damn the wintery Seoul winter! Damn his stylish yet slightly impractical boots!

“Sorry - I’m fine, thank you! Thank you for helping me up!”

Clouds puff up between them as the man laughs. It’s big and boisterous and for a second, Jungwoo can’t see the flashy watch and the fancy suit (okay, maybe the suit is still in the picture), completely enraptured by the freedom of the sound. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Jungwoo says, flipping his hair out of his eyes. He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “The only thing hurt is my pride.”

The man raises an eyebrow at him and uh, hello, there’s that familiar feeling stirring in the pit of Jungwoo’s stomach again. Jungwoo curses at himself. Has it really been so long since he last had an interaction with someone that couldn’t have been described as more than merely ‘platonic’ or ‘professional’ that a raised eyebrow is enough to get him going?

 _Maybe he’s the exception_ , Jungwoo’s brain supplies, _he_ is _just your type._

 _Shut up, please!_ , Jungwoo tells it.

“Okay,” Jungwoo says, finally submitting to the area of his brain responsible for flirting, “and my butt.”

The man laughs again and right. Okay. Jungwoo knows how to do this. He knows how to deal with raised eyebrows and sparkly eyes. He’s not a goddamn amateur.

“You must be Jungwoo,” the man says, still laughing. “Jeno talks about you all the time.”

 _OH FUCK,_ Jungwoo’s brain screams at him, screeching to a halt. _THIS IS JENO’S DAD._

“Oh!” Jungwoo says out loud. He feels like he’s short-circuiting. He can see the links form in his mind’s eye, sees the similar curve of Jeno’s smile in the man’s cheeks. “Yeah, that’s me! Jeno’s such a great kid! He works so hard too! You must be so proud! I’m so glad he chose to learn the violin, because it’s the best!”

Jungwoo cringes internally, and fights the urge to run straight back to his dorm, if only because he just _knows_ that he’ll slip and fall on his ass again and then he’d _actually_ have to die.

He’s saved from having to come up with a sudden excuse to high-tail his bruised ass out of there by the front door bursting open and Jeno bounding out into the snow and leaping right into the arms of his -

“Hyung!” Jeno laughs, and the sigh Jungwoo lets out is worryingly deep. _You are in no position to be relieved right now_ , Jungwoo tells his dick, _they’re still related! This is so unprofessional!_

Jeno’s hyung lifts the nine-year-old into his arms with impressive strength, bundling him into his coat. He presses a kiss into his hair before immediately chastising him about not wearing more layers in this kind of weather and no, I don’t care if it’s just for a minute, it’s literally snowing!

Jungwoo looks up to the sky in surprise and sees that it is, in fact, snowing. Flakes float delicately down from the grey blanket that is the Seoul sky. He follows their downward path and meets Jeno’s hyung’s gaze over the kids head, and his breath catches in his throat.

Jungwoo decides then and there that he’s going to have a long, hard talk with his subconscious about crushing on people within the first five minutes of meeting them.

“I’m so happy you finally met Jungwoo-hyung!” Jeno says, giggling, “he’s my favourite violin teacher!”

“He’s your only violin teacher,” his brother teases, setting him back down on the ground. “Go back inside before you catch a cold, kid! And don’t run!” He turns back to Jungwoo, and has the goddamn audacity to _wink_. “We don’t want a repeat of what happened earlier,” He says in a stage-whisper.

Jeno disappears back into his family’s disgustingly large house (seriously, who can afford a house like this in _Seoul?_ ) with a cheery goodbye, and Jungwoo is a beat too late with his response, mind still in shambles, waving at a closed door.

“I’ll call you a taxi,” Jeno’s hyung says, looking up at the sky. “The snow doesn’t look like it’s going to let up…”

Jungwoo is quick to shake his head. “Oh, no, it’s fine! Really! I don’t want to be a bother!”

“It wouldn’t be a bother. And I’d prefer it if you didn’t have another, ah, slipping accident on your way home.”

Jungwoo’s face burns, freezing weather be damned. “Ha! That’s a good one Mr. Lee! Anyway, I’m on the other side of town, that cab fare is gonna be –”

“And booked. Hey –” He holds a hand up at Jungwoo’s protest. “Think nothing of it. I wouldn’t want my baby brother’s favourite violin teacher to catch a cold. He would be so upset if you were to miss a lesson. He really does love them, you know?”

Jungwoo flushes, with pride more than embarrassment, this time. “He’s _such_ a great kid,” he finds himself gushing, _again_. “And I can tell he practices his scales in between lessons! That’s really impressive! He’s going to do so well at the recital. He told me he barely gets stage fright, and that’s more than what I can say for myself at nine, let me te–” Jungwoo cuts himself off abruptly, clearing his throat.

“Well,” he chuckles awkwardly, making some sort of vague hand gesture and oh God, stop it, put your hands back in your pockets you _fool_.

Jeno’s brother’s eyes are smiling as Jungwoo shyly raises his head. He tears his eyes away as a sleek black car pulls up to the road, and Jeno’s brother clears his throat. “Taxi’s here,” he says, “how about this - you can tell me about it another time.”

Jungwoo must have entered an alternate dimension during that conversation, because he could have sworn that the other man booked the taxi just a couple of minutes ago. It’s not even a taxi company that Jungwoo recognises, but he supposes if he winds up dead by getting into a cab at least his friends will know his last location. They’ll avenge him, if only because Jaehyun loves murder mysteries and Sicheng loves drama.

Jeno’s brother opens the car door and Jungwoo slides inside, leaning forward to tell the driver his address.

"Wait!" Jungwoo says, head whipping around with embarrassing speed as the other man places a hand on Jungwoo's car door. He pauses, leaning down with an amused smile.

“Do you have a name?” Jungwoo asks, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. “So I can call you something that isn’t ‘Jeno’s Hyung’?”

“Doyoung,” he replies, holding out his hand for Jungwoo to shake. “But please, call me hyung, Jungwoo-ssi.”

Finally! A name to the face! Doyoung's other hand moves to rest on the frame of the car, leaning into the warmth of the interior, and Jungwoo thinks his smile is very pretty up close.

“Oh?” Jungwoo says, noticing Doyoung’s outstretched hand. He shakes it firmly. Business suit-wearing types are impressed by things like firm handshakes, right?

“Any friend of Jeno’s is a friend of mine,” Doyoung - _hyung_ \- says, and his grin is toothy, confident, and it makes Jungwoo’s traitor heart beat faster. Actually, when Jungwoo gets home, he’s staging an intervention for his entire traitor body. Doyoung closes the door and waves as the driver pulls away from the house. 

God _damn_ you, Dong Sicheng.

 

 

-

 

 

“So he called you a taxi? And paid?”

“This is serious,” Jaehyun says soberly, as Sicheng scoffs.

“ _H_ _ow_ is this my fault, again?” Sicheng asks indignantly, amused eyes juxtaposed with an innocent pout. “What exactly is the problem?”

Sicheng pauses, turning his shrewd gaze directly towards Jungwoo.

"Was he hot?"

Biting back an _obviously_ , Jungwoo considers the question. Doyoung _was_ very good looking, in an exactly-Jungwoo’s-type kind of way, but he didn’t know if he’d match Sicheng’s description of hot. Jungwoo look at all six-feet of ripped, dimpled med student lying between Sicheng’s thighs, then back at Sicheng’s expectant face.

“He was good looking,” he settles on. Sicheng is already too powerful, he doesn’t need to know _just_ how attracted Jungwoo is to someone who’s still, for all intents and purposes, a complete stranger.

"So," Sicheng drags out, "how is this a bad thing?"

Jungwoo flings himself onto the sofa, not wanting to explain the whole situation to them again. “It just is!” he says to the ceiling.

“Maybe I can set you up, Jungwoo. It could help!” Jaehyun says, expression very earnest.

Jungwoo thinks of Jaehyun’s friends, and tries to think of just _one_ that he met outside of beating them at a sport. He shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” Jungwoo says. It’s hard to bowl against Jung Jaehyun and not harbour a grudge after.

Better safe than sorry.

“Besides,” Jungwoo continues, taking his phone out of his pocket, “I’m probably just stressed from working, and _work_. I love the kids – Renjun _especially_ , Sicheng-hyung – but this semester has really taken it out of me. A distraction is _not_ what I need.”

Sicheng levels him with a stare. Jungwoo has obviously not done enough to convince him. “You’re going to look him up on the internet, aren’t you?”

“I hate you!” Jungwoo says with hatred. Sicheng just looks at him, bored. Such is the life of an evil genius, Jungwoo supposes.

“Hey, if he has Facebook or something, we’ll at least have a clue as to why he was wearing a suit on a Sunday,” Jaehyun says. At least _he_ looks sympathetic, but he’s also curled around Sicheng’s thigh like a very comfortable brioche roll, so who knows whose side he’s really on.

“More like LinkedIn,” Sicheng says, “Though, I guess he could have been going to church,”

“Without his little brother?” Jaehyun shoots back.

“What? It’s a reasonable suggestion!”

Jungwoo tunes out the couple’s bickering in favour of some internet-sleuthing. His life-long experience in helping his sister google her dates seems to have been in preparation for this moment. It’s like nineteen-year-old Joohyun already knew what her baby brother was going to get up to in college.

Unfortunately for Jungwoo, a Naver search for _Lee Doyoung_ gives Jungwoo tens of thousands of hits, but none of them match the sharp-dressed, sharp-eyed man that has occupied every corner of his brain since that morning.

“This is impossible,” Jungwoo groans, throwing his phone to the side. “The twenty-first century has failed me!”

"Lee Doyoung, right?" Sicheng asks. "Are you sure that's his name? You could have misheard."

Jungwoo hums. "Well Jeno's surname is definitely Lee. And I'm pretty sure he said Doyoung..."

“Dohyung,” Sicheng says, and Jungwoo shudders. “That’s definitely not right.”

“ _Dong_ hyung?” Jaehyun suggests, but Jungwoo shakes his head.

“Dong _hyun_ ,” Sicheng says confidently, tongue poking out between his lips. Jaehyun tilts his head. “Wait, isn’t that the real name of that actor?”

Sicheng narrows his eyes. “You mean the one you have a crush on?”

“He was wearing a suit,” Jungwoo wails, if only to save Jaehyun from his inevitable doom. Sicheng rolls his eyes, releasing Jaehyun from his glare to tap at his phone.

"Don't despair, Zeus," Jaehyun says optimistically. "You'll see him again!"

“Do you think so?” Jungwoo sniffs. “This was the first time I’ve seen him, and I’ve been teaching Jeno for _months_.” Jungwoo turns his sad, sad face to where Jaehyun and Sicheng are sitting on the floor, and pulls a sad, sad expression. “He was wearing a _suit_ , hyung,” he repeats, just to drive the point home.

Jaehyun mirrors Jungwoo’s frown in sympathy. Jaehyun is well aware of the effect a good suit can have on Jungwoo. He was there when Jungwoo saw Moon Taeil play the lead in a production of Singing in the Rain and it wasn’t pretty. Sicheng doesn’t bother to look up from his phone.

“Ugh,” Sicheng says after a while, making both Jaehyun and Jungwoo jump. “I can’t find him either. Not even ‘kid from milk ad family members’ gave me any hits. Guess your mystery man really is a mystery, Jungwoo.”

“Except for the fact that we know his name and at least one member of his family,” Jaehyun reminds him.

“A mystery,” Sicheng emphasises, putting his face really close to Jaehyun’s.

“You two suck,” Jungwoo says loudly, before they start to make out. He’s had enough reminders of how single he is today. The most he can hope for is that he sees the mysterious Doyoung again next Sunday. He tries to shake his head of the thought – he can’t be this hung up over a stranger, right? Especially if the stranger is _literally_ his student’s older brother. A stranger who is hot. Hot and mysterious and a stranger and _related to one of your students, Jungwoo_.

Jungwoo resists the urge to scream into his hands.

“You just need to survive this week!” Jaehyun says cheerfully, having considerately decided not to fuck around with Sicheng with Jungwoo still in the room. Sicheng huffs out a laugh.

“Survive is the word. Hey, Woos, have you seen the problem sheets we’ve got to do for Lim? Do you think he’s got it out for finalists or _what_?”

Jungwoo lets his head fall back onto the sofa with a _thunk_. Survive is the word, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> doyoung: i just want to take care of people  
> me, seeing the type of person that he is: i see the type of person you are
> 
> and thus sugar daddy doyoung was born!
> 
>  
> 
> this fic has been my brain baby for a while!!! and thank u to alice and pratu for feeding my ego and telling me my writing is suitable for public consumption!!! also exam term is literally about to start at my uni and i have no idea why i'm posting the beginning of a chaptered fic now of all times but that's what i did and no i don't want to talk about why i made this choice
> 
>  
> 
> come say hi!  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/ncigbt) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/nclgbt)


End file.
